Mulched Earth, Broken Code
by Cyanide Lemons
Summary: They pick the bot up a couple miles out of Eichenwalde, a tiny blot of red against the backdrop of the otherwise empty scanner.


They pick the bot up a couple miles out of Eichenwalde, a tiny blot of red against the backdrop of the otherwise empty scanner. The team argues, they're not here to unearth mysteries, they're here to recover a scrap heap of armour and sentimentalities.

But the idea of letting some unknown hover in their peripheries raises the hackles of more than a few of them, and so Lena trudges out of the castle gates and into the overgrown town at the base of it. They haven't encountered any enemies yet, the chatter of the radio is calm and cheerful, and it's not like they need her there anyways since the old crusaders gear is right in the open.

She's a little excited, thinking of snipers or shadowed figures behind trees, and she knows she's not the only one hoping for a little action. If it weren't for the fact that splitting up the group would be a horrible tactical decision she's sure she wouldn't be on her own as she darts between the undergrowth. That's ok, she works well on her own when there's no one else to slow her down. She can be a little reckless with the blinking, but she has a rhythm memorised by now that ensures she always has one in reserve in case of emergencies.

And there's something about being the first one there, to wander about a forest that looks like human hands have never touched it, and even if the red mark is only a glitch in old systems she thinks she could be happy with that.

Of course, instead of Talon mercenaries or lost adventurers or even (her secret wish of) a wrecked jet, she blinks into a small clearing right into the sights of an overgrown turret, already ready up to riddle her body with holes the size of her fist.

"Bloody hell," she yelps as she blinks back into the cover of the trees, expecting the sound of gunfire to follow her not long after.

Instead she gets sudden silence from her com and then the as sudden explosion of chatter as the rest of the team comes to attention.

"Lena! Report!" Winston's voice is that of panic, and she knows in any other circumstance he would never use her real name on the mission coms. Soldier: 76's on the other hand is practically glaciar.

"Are you in need of backup?"

She grits her teeth and checks the energy meter on her pulse harness. Realistically she could overcharge it and make a makeshift bomb that would literally blast the robot into a different timeline, but then she runs the risk of being defenseless against any other hostiles in the area.

She's not a heavy hitter though, and certainly not a tank who can withstand the kind of damage a turret can blast off so really her only option—

And there's quiet in the forest. She blinks her worries away and presses herself against an old tree. There's no sound of gunfire, or of a barrel spinning, no sound of creaking gears or heavy footsteps.

"Uh," she whispers in the coms, edging around the bark.

"Tracer, do you need backup," Soldier repeats, and she grimaces even as she risks a peak out into the field. The Bastion Unit, because now that she's not panicking she can recognise it at a glance, swivels its gun in her direction but doesn't fire.

"I'm...not sure?" she answers slowly. It takes a second for her to realise why exactly the bot isn't riddling her with enough holes to make her swiss cheese, but when it does she just has to blink bemusedly.

There's a tiny yellow bird perched on the gun barrel, asleep.

"Huh," she mutters, pulling away a little from the tree, but not walking any further into the clearing. She has a feeling getting any closer would be a bad idea.

"Lena?" Winston's voice pipes up again, and she can hear the sound of Lúcio and Soldier in the background, no doubt debating the merits of rushing to her rescue. Reinhart is suspiciously silent.

She takes note of the grass and flowers covering the rusted metal of the Bastion Unit and the obvious signs of habitation (for as much as a robot can live in a place), and makes the obvious deduction that the bot has been here for a long time. Maybe even since the end of the war.

"Looks like someone forgot to clean up from that 'ol scuffle here years ago," she says into her mic, only half as cheerful as she sounds.

"That scuffle you're talking about killed thousands of good soldiers and destroyed the nation's supply of—Lena, please tell me you haven't stumbled across a still working Bastion Unit," Winston responds, and she has to grin that he's figured it out so soon. True, the most used omnic in Germany were the mass produced Bastions, only made larger in number when introduced to the Omnium, but she's sure no one else would have gotten the situation out of one smart quip.

"Sorry Luv, no can do."

"Shoulda gone with her," Lúcio grumbles, and she giggles quietly. It makes the bot jerk a little before hurriedly settling down, bird still dozing. What a trusting creature, she can't help think.

"It's, uh, not shooting?" She tries to reassure her audience, but if anything that just seems to get their hackles up even more.

"We have secured the objective, on route towards you now," Soldier barks, fading into grumbles as other voices push to the forefront.

"We were victorious in battle!" The voice of Reinhart, louder than the others.

"Yeah, sure. We sure did show the mice not to mess with us." Lúcio chuckling lowly in response.

"Be careful, Lena." And that's Winston, voice edge with something a little desperate. She can't help but think that her old chum's gone a little stir crazy all on his lonesome with only Athena as company. It's been years. It probably doesn't help that he's stuck behind his desk with the AI instead of helping them out physically.

"Always am!" She chirps back, and settles in to wait.

—

When the humans come they come with metal implants and power sources humming under their skin. SST Laboratories Siege Automaton E54 almost mistakes them for omnics, the way their bodies are riddled with metal. One appears to be just a giant suit of armour, despite the heat signature radiating from it.

They come, and its internal processors heat with some nebulous background program, some rapid fire calculation that it can't quite grasp.

There's missing code it it's mainframe.

Still, the sight of them brings the flash of red it's pushed down, brings flashes of mortar fire and plasma shields. Scares the bird into flight and his gun into motion. But there's a disconnect there, between the sound of a far off copter and the sight of green moss and dewy leaves.

The words that leave the mouths of its enemies are usually filtered out, shunted off as unnecessary information. And yet it can hear arguing, can hear individual words crashing against its chassis, like the feeling of bullets ripping through titanium.

It reverts into sentinel mode at the sound of it, a full body flinch that has his processors shaking in the wake of the silence. His visor is still blaring red, urging it to shoot and shoot and eliminate the targets.

The bird clings to it's arm, tiny legs gripping rough machinery. it can't shoot without risking injury to the animal. The human with the armour is familiar in a way it can't define, outside of the black box memories of it's fallen siblings, and if anything the familiarity makes it want to shoot all the more.

It stutters, inner workings grinding against each other.

The bird chirps.

Red blue red blue red blue, the beating of its core against rusted metal. The flickering of unfinished processes and corrupted data. The humans act strange, threatening but not. The original one, the one who hid behind the rough bark of the purely organic trees keeps them away, voice low.

Voice not quite low enough for it to not hear.

"It looks pretty damaged," the voice trickles into his auditory sensors, distorted by the code still fractioning apart inside him. No system was left unaltered.

"Than we are lucky, I remember what these machines are capable of," this voice does not require augmented auditory functions, it booms like a cannon blast.

It shuffles a few steps backwards, bird laden arm heavy with restricted violence. A flash of green has it's torso spinning as the sound tech human skates closer. Red blinks in its vision and the bird goes flying again, squawking as the gun goes spinning. The sound has him freezing, blue flickering about.

"Whoah, hey hey," the green one says, hands flying up. The one holding the conical gun is tight and slightly lower.

Calculations run in the background. It is just one unit, with limited ammo and worst, limited mobility. The enemies in front of it are obviously powerful, and outnumber it significantly. Chance of success; minimal.

On top of that, there is the bird. Always the bird. Fighting in the forest is...inadvised.

The sound of a gun cocking has it swerving again, and for once there is no stutter in its program. It switches into turret mode and (with relief at the feeling of tiny feet gripping the top of its outer shell) fires into the dark undergrowth.

—

Lena jumps when the bot abruptly turns and shoots into the bush, gun hands jerking up automatically. A heavy hand stops her from actually shooting back, and she flashes a surprised look Soldier's way.

The sound of the Bastion Unit's heavy firing is loud and deafening, and she almost doesn't hear what he says in response. At her side Reinhart is already activating his shield, and Lúcio is speeding back towards them. But it is the way that Soldier is looking far over the robot's form and into the shadows of the trees that has her switching modes.

If the man thinks there's something in the darkness, than she is inclined to believe. She nods to him to show that she understands, and then blinks backwards into the foliage. Looks like the action they were waiting for finally decided to show up.

A shadow follows her.


End file.
